Little White Pills
by chocolate rules
Summary: Sam's injured and unwilling to take his pills. Dean's just about had his fill of annoying little brother. Very hurtSam.


**Title**: Little White Pills  
**Characters**: Dean, Sam  
**Rating**: R, for language  
**Category**: Hurt and would be Comfort?, Gen  
**Word Count**: 1,357  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Sam's injured and unwilling to take his pills. Dean's just about had his fill of annoying little brother.  
**Notes/Warnings**: Very hurt Sam. *Notes at the end*

* * *

It was probably Sam's refusal that had Dean reaching his final breaking point. He knew that his little brother hated to be doped up, and the pain medication that Sam was on, while not as obligatory as the antibiotics that had recently been finished, were still a vital part of getting Sam back to a functioning condition.

But what did he say when Dean approached him with his two little white pills after breakfast? Was it a 'thanks Dean, I'm in so much f-ing pain to get up and to my bag that it's kind of you to get the pills to me when it's so deadly obvious that I need them'? No. Instead, what Dean got was a _heavy sigh_ followed by an _annoyed groan_ to be topped by –

"Seriously, man? Enough with the happy pills, already, will you?"

"Take these, or I'm just going to have to give into the pleasure of shoving them down your throat!" Dean replied, trying not to crush the paper cup in his other hand. It was just paper after all, and it wasn't meant for the wrath of Dean Winchester.

A wrath that was all but apparently oblivious to little brother.

"Just leave me alone, Dean."

"Gladly," Dean said, raising his hands closer to Sam's mouth. "Once these are on their way to that empty pit of rabbit harvest you call a stomach, I'm heading out."

Instead of focusing on what Dean was trying to press on, the pills, Sam of course chose to focus on a completely irrelevant detail of Dean's departure. For the first time since Sam had ended up sliced and diced on the ground in Bumfuck County, USA doing another – what had it been any way? It looked like a freaking Bigfoot, but that had long been proven a hoax, right? – hunt, Dean was actually, leaving Sam's side.

"Where you going?" Sam wasn't sure how to feel at the moment. He was kind of excited to finally (_finally!)_ be alone for the first time in close to a month, but he was also a little suspicious and apprehensive about what the sudden departure meant.

"Out." Dean didn't look the least bit interested in delving into the topic. Maybe he just needed to get some gas for the Impala or restock on some supplies. Unless Dean had left for a few moments in the many times a day that Sam fell asleep, though it was rarely longer than half an hour, Dean hadn't gone out at all. Even their food consisted now of delivery instead of take-out. And while Dean occasionally appeased Sam and bought him from some healthier franchises, it was still a far cry away from real food.

"Well, out where?"

It was Dean's turn to sigh now. Taking care of an ill younger brother, while he had many, many years of practice, rarely seemed to get to him as much as this time had.

He was fighting off desires to throttle his brother instead of the overwhelming sense of doom and concern and worry and anxiety that he had felt back at the hospital. Maybe there was a time limit to such feelings? Dean didn't know, he tried not to think about feelings for too long.

Maybe it was the _throttle_ part.

"Out to the park to play with all my little friends, _mom_."

Sam glared as his brother, but the effect was likely lost as he grimaced on the pain the look caused on his bruised and stitched forehead.

"Don't do that," Dean said sternly, watching his brother grimace. How after this long the kid still did things to upset his face, ribs, ankle or leg, Dean didn't know. It was aggravating, but continuously mentioning to said younger brother about his own injuries just left Dean feeling overwhelmed and annoyed.

"It's fine, Dean."

"Of course it is," Dean scoffed. "Now take the pills."

"Just, what the hell man! Leave. It. Alone."

"You think I _won't_ shove these down your throat? You really think I won't do that? Sam, you groan and grimace as you _breathe_, kid. So, shut it and open your fucking flapper."

"Asshole."

"Prima donna." Dean said, not missing a beat. Sam glared at him again, grimaced again, and Dean sighed. Again.

"It's like talking to a fucking wall!" Dean turned from his brother and placed the pills and cup of water on a small table a little distance away from Sam's bed. He placed his hands on the table and stopped his mental plotting.

"I'm not doing this every day with you, damnit. You know you're in pain and I don't know what delusional trip you're on now, but you're not going to get any better by not taking these. They make you feel like shit? Well, you're already there, so what's the extra quarter?"

A pillow hit Dean clear on the back. Dean sighed heavily. He bent down and picked up Sam's pillow and turned towards his brother.

"What?" Dean said, leaning back against the table.

"You, _we_ wouldn't have to do this every day, if you'd just listen to me and stop it already."

"Fuck you."

"It's pointless talking to you."

"Likewise," Dean said, tossing the pillow back at his brother. It took great care not to toss it at his face, but the cuts and bruises, even the memory of how _bad_ it had been that night, stopped Dean before that thought was even fully formed. "And if you keep fighting me," Dean added turning around to grab the pills and the paper cup of ice chips. "I'm asking Dr. Damon for them in suppositories and for Nurse Jeane."

Nurse Jeane was a seventy year old retired nurse that didn't seem too stuck on retiring. She liked to help out in the hospital, and since it was a rather rural area, not much happening there until recently, no one denied it to her. And she had taken quite the liking to Sammy. But then again, most of the staff had.

Dean approached his brother and held out the tiniest little white pills, the ones Sam had insisted he could take so that he wouldn't have to be released into Dean's care with a freaking IV to boot, the ones that practically dissolved in his mouth to slip so easily through Sam's throat and started working within five minutes. Little miracle pills that a whisper could blow away but that made his brother, while a little loopy and sleepy, tons of better for it.

"You calling it quits now, or am I doing that throat-shoving thing?" Dean opened his fist and gave the cup a little shake.

Sam looked defeated. Dean hated, _hated_ to see his brother look that way. He needed his little brother to be a fighter, that same stubborn three year old who wanted to start school a year early and who he had taught to read so that John wouldn't completely go nuts over the daily battle. He needed the kid that shouted at the top of his lungs that he was 'going to college, damnit, not to a fucking cult camp, so what was the big deal?'

"I hate this," Sam signed, taking the cup and a piece of ice chips into his mouth. It was refreshing and still caused him to wince as it passed his crushed throat. Next, he took one of the pills, averting his brother's gaze and placed the little pill in his mouth. And repeat.

"Trust me," Dean sighed as he watched his brother put away the second pill and a few more bits of ice chips. "I know."

It wasn't long before Sam was asleep and Dean was out the door. He had to gas up his baby, who hadn't been moved since he brought Sam back two weeks back, and head over to a library about an hour away. It was longer than he wanted to be away from his brother. But Joshua had called about a possible way to repair Sam's crushed neck, and Dean wanted to find out all about.

After all, taking care of his little brother was a full time job.

* * *

**Notes**: I am not a doctor or anything like that, so I pretty much made up the pills and Sam's release. He should probably still be in the hospital!

Secondly, if it wasn't clear, Sam is currently mute. Trust me, this surprised me too. It wasn't supposed to be, but as Dean stood at that table, the pillow line came to me and I _knew_. Also, I then noticed I hadn't written 'Sam said' once, so it was pretty much set from the start. Funny how stories do that to you. As for Sam sighing and groaning, those are slanted because they're implied. Dean just _knows_ that Sam was sighing and groaning on in the inside. I hope the story was both subtle and obvious.

Last, Sam and Dean know sign language? Of course they do! :) It was just one of the things John thought his kids should know, you know?

Hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
